Subtleties
by HeavenlyBodies
Summary: basically the same as the warnings, lol- PWP Warnings/Squicks: frottage, voyeurism, first time, PWP


**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never have been, never will be, so yeah… They belong to Kripke/McG/et al, and a bunch of other corporate-type ppl, in other words, not me.  
**Warnings/Squicks:** frottage, voyeurism, first time, PWP

~~~~~~~~~

Castiel wasn't often confused, but with the elder Winchester it seemed to be an almost chronic condition. This time, Dean had called, speaking as soon as the line connected, not a hi or hello between them.

Urgently, Dean raped out a name, address, and room number before hanging -up abruptly, leaving Cas to stare blankly at his phone.

Questions hung on his lips as his wings fluttered announcing his arrival. Castiel didn't allow for the rustling sounds to fade before the most important question in Cas' mind leapt from his lips, "Are you alright?"

A soft, "Mmm," was his only reply.

Castiel stepped towards the sound, his senses on alert in the too dark room. All the lights were off and the cheap blinds and curtains that covered the windows were tightly closed. Castiel assumed the motel was 'off the beaten track' as dean would say, since the harsh halogen lamps that normally worked their hard light through every open crevice were notably absent. It all came together to make the room almost pitch black- even shapes hard to pick out.  
In the darkness the rasping breaths of his hunter became evermore clear and he used that alluring sound to guide him. As he neared he began to make out shapes and outlines- a bed, a desk, a small lamp on what he assumed was a bedside table. Slowly, he moved with careful, wary steps towards the bed and Dean's ragged breath. Soon the outlines took form and substance, the bed was covered with an uncharacteristically welcoming comforter- fluffy with a soft velvety pile. But most breathtakingly was the figure propped against a pile of pillows at the headboard.

Dean lay naked, legs lightly spread, a silent invitation. One hand traced lazy patterns over his bare chest, his palm grazing the tip of a pert, dark nipple as his fingers danced around them, teasing the sensitive skin.

"Cas," he ground out in a long, breathless cry of desire.

The angel froze, caught in the sight and sounds before him.

Dean _had_ to know Castiel was here, he _had_ to, but if he did, Castiel gasped, this little show was meant for him. He was still processing that realization, when another throaty sound, a drawn out moan of need, "Yesssss," replaced the wispy pants that filled the room.

In front of him, Dean's other hand encircled his already throbbing flesh, hand moving slow and loose at first, his grip tightened with every other stroke, pace remaining achingly slow. His legs splayed wider as his entire body began to move and writhe in time with his thrusting hips.

Castiel watched, locked in horrid fascination. He moved closer.

A litany of words fell from moist, hungry lips, "Cas. My angel. My…" Dean's voice trailed off amid the shudders of his voice and body.

Castiel was less than a foot from the bed now, he could reach out and touch the soft coverings. It would only take a few moves more and he could be touching Dean, feeling the tanned skin, the smooth muscled chest, taking that teased and tormented nipple into his mouth soothing the oversensitive nub with gentle licks and soft suckling lips.  
The bed dipped when Castiel sat on the edge, simply watching his hunter, his slow, precise strokes, the beads of pre-cum spilling lazily from the swollen head.  
The angel had long known what he felt for Dean was more than Heaven's love of all God's creatures, more than the love of an angel for his charge, but this right now, this was desire- pure, base, and real and nothing like anything he'd known before.

Beside him, Dean didn't falter or flinch when his angel joined him on the bed, he just kept stroking himself and whispering Cas' name as if it was a prayer in its own right, a call for salvation and peace.

Tentatively, Castiel reached out and stroked Dean's leg, want and love radiating between their flesh.

This time Dean did react, his eyes fluttered open, showing dilated pools more forest green than emerald and his hand stuttered on his shaft. A soft, gleam spread over the hunter's face and the hand that had been so deliciously tormenting his nipple stretched down to cover the hand on his leg. "Finally," he whispered, pulling the angel's hand to his mouth, causing Cas to stretch and lean towards him.

"Dean," his name nothing more than a hushed breath.

A husky sound like a warm blanket on an autumn night informed the angel, "Too many clothes."  
The hand that had been wrapped around Dean's hard flesh came up to push at Cas' trench coat, the other tugging at Cas' sleeve.

Mindlessly, Castiel's hands joined Dean's in the race to remove his clothing.

When it was finally done and Castiel lay bare, Dean pulled the angel's slighter body over his own, running his hands over Cas' soft skin as if trying to read the angel the way a blind man would read brail.

Castiel's hands were far from still, they caressed Dean's sides, feeling the dip and rise of his chiselled muscles. Hands moved up slowly, purposefully over chest, neck, and cheek. Blue eyes darkened to cobalt by want and desire roamed Dean's face searching for answers to questions he barely understood- why? how? when? His eyes finally came to rest on Dean's tempting lips as they moved and flowed over silent words and cries, his own breath toying and intertwining with his hunter's. The only words the angel could make out, "yes," and "Cas." Castiel's thumbs stroked softly over the mortal's temples and with hardly a thought, closed the distance between their lips.

As first kisses go it was remarkable, no hesitance or sloppy wildness, this kiss was all passionate desire and love. Lips, hard in their pursuit of each other, yet tender when they met, fit together like puzzle pieces.

There was no doubt in Cas' mind that what he was doing was right. That in and of itself shocked him; he was an 'Angel of the Lord' and fornication of any kind should not feel this sacred, but this did and Castiel lost himself to it.

Dean's hands gripped Castiel's hips, pulling him to press hard against his flesh. The silken feel of shaft to shaft caused harsh earthy moans to spill from the lover's.

Castiel's eyes widened as his moans mixed flawlessly with Dean's and feelings he'd never imagined flooded him with wave after wave of new sensations.  
Then something changed, something frightening began to consume him. It was pure electricity humming through his body, the Chorus of Heaven, which he could no longer hear, ringing in his ears; it was every Heavenly, rapturous feeling an angel could have condensed into one moment, one flash of ecstasy.  
Castiel screamed, the edges of his true voice causing lamps to shake and windows to rattle dangerously.

Dean gripped the hair at the back of Castiel's head and pulled him down to him, swallowing his cries as if they were a physical thing. He could feel every pulse and twitch of his angel's cock as he came. Cum covered his body, just as the angel's cries filled him. Dean barely noticed his own orgasm, so lost in the intensity of his lover's.

Slowly the thrusting and rutting subsided, Castiel's arms looped under and around Dean's, gripping his shoulders tightly; Dean's hands played idly, affectionately over his angel's back, his arms locked tight to Castiel's sides hold the frail exhausted angel.

"Why?" Castiel asked, breathless and spent, lying comfortably on his hunter.

Dean chuckled, tightening his arms around Cas, "'cause neither of us is good at subtle."


End file.
